Lone Wolf and Cub
by JulieArchery107
Summary: What if Miles Edgeworth's story unfolded a little bit differently than what was showed in the game? What if Gregory was part of the Yatagerasu before Calisto Yew? What if Detective Badd didn't just leave his friend's son in the hands of an enemy?
1. Chapter 1

"Lone Wolf and Cub"

Chapter 1

"He only learned about this now..."

Tyrell Badd stepped out of the plane, bag hung over his shoulder and lollipop safely tucked inside his mouth.

The large Detective looked up, closed his eyes against the sun, and took a deep breath.

It was good to be home.

The past three months were nothing short of excruciating, as he worked day and night with the Belgian police department to capture a group of copycat murderers that followed the plot of a popular crime series nearly to the "T", even going so far as to go after the author when they ran out of books to copy having everything they're going to do literally written and handed to them in a nice, colorful hard cover, the Copycats weren't making it easy for the at random times during the weeks, in different sides of the country. A pattern decided by the roll of a dice, as Badd discovered during the final they finally cornered the obsessed murderers in the author's home and took them to jail, Tyrell and the rest of the investigation squad were allowed to go home with the promise of a nice long week of strength recovery, by their bosses.

A week which he's going to spend hanging out with his best friends Byrne Faraday and Gregory Edgeworth, and planning the next Yatagarasu heist.

The following hours passed by like a blur, the road to the Faraday residence a comforting familiarity.

Soon he'll be greeted by Byrne's surprised yelp, and Gregory's gentle scolding about not informing them of the precise time of his arrival back in the country, as they're probably going to be in the middle of planning another data stealing operation when he arrives.

Tyrell smiled.

Yes.

It was good to be home.

* * *

Something's wrong.

Tyrell's detective instincts tell him, as he drives into Faraday's parking lot.

For one thing Edgeworth's car isn't here, and it always is.

Another thing is the stillness in the yard.

Miles, Gregory's son and arguably the most adult-like and Intelligent nine-year-old Tyrell had the pleasure of meeting, wasn't there training his new dog, Pess.

This could mean a great number of things.

Maybe Gregory had a trial prolonged and couldn't come to the weekly meeting.

Or Miles just got sick and Edgeworth had to take a day off to take care of him.

Or maybe Gregory decided to spend this evening bonding with Miles doing father-son activities.

Any of those situations could explain why the familiar black sedan wasn't there.

But something deep in his gut told him that was not the case.

He stopped the car and exited the vehicle, trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach.

Threading through the snow gathered on the sidewalk, he hummed to himself to drown the silence that Miles's absence left behind.

' _God, I miss that kid..._ '

Before he knew it Tyrell was at the door, raising his hand to knock.

The wood felt cold to the touch, the sound echoing hollowly through the air.

Byrne opened the door, looking genuinely exhausted and miserable, dressed in all black.

"I'm sorry I have nothing else to say about the situ-" Faraday started to say something, voice uncharacteristically bitter, before he realized who he's talking to. "Tyrell?"

Badd smirked, trying to put some levity and familiarity into the situation.

"The one and only, Faraday." His dark eyes looked the smaller one up and down. "Jesus, you look like hell… was Hammer giving you a hard time in court while I was gone?" Tyrell teased gently.

He expected Byrne to respond kindly, to say that he can take on Hammer just fine thank-you-very-much And that, if he can't, there is always Gregory who can ask as the calm and collected buffer.

He expected him to tease him back, commenting on how he's getting old if solving one simple case took him almost four months.

But Byrne did none of those things.

He just looked at Tyrell with those sad brown eyes, as he wordlessly stepped aside to let the detective in.

Badd blinked, and followed him inside.

He wasn't used to Byrne being this quiet.

Hell, he wasn't used to seeing this house not filled with Faraday's snarky comments, Edgeworth's good-natured quips and Miles's childish voice trying to correct everyone.

"Did… did something happen?" Tyrell asked tentatively, not being able to deal with all the silence surrounding him. "Where is Gregory? Is he sick? Is Miles sick? Why aren't they here?"

Byrne blinked at him.

"You… you don't know?" He whispered in disbelief.

The void in the Detective's stomach grew.

"Know _what_?"

His friend swallowed thickly.

"You might want to sit down for this, Badd." He said after noticing Tyrell's questioning gaze. "There is… a lot you aren't aware of." He shook his head. "God why _me_? Why couldn't you be notified sooner..."

* * *

In the kitchen Byrne did everything he could to postpone the inevitable.

He warmed water for tea, cleaned what little dishes he had in the sink, wiped the table and even polished the mugs they were going to have the tea in.

All the while Tyrell squirmed in his seat wishing that this nightmarish anticipation would just end already.

After a solid minute of Faraday attempting to clean the windows, the Detective couldn't take it anymore.

"Byrne-"

"I know what you're going to say." The Prosecutor cut him off. "That I should stop acting like a drama queen, and just tell you what's going on. And, in any other case you would be _right_ to tell me that but..." He leaned on the counter and rubbed his face. "It's… it's not… I don't think I can do it this time, I'm sorry."

Tyrell blinked hearing the genuine sorrow coming from his best friend's tone, and moved to get up.

"Byrne, hey." He walked up to the smaller man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it looks bad but we'll get through it. All three of us, just like always."

He thought saying that would help, that it would lift Faraday's spirit.

But it did the exact opposite.

Byrne's eyes widened and his hand traveled to his mouth.

"H-How can you say that?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "How can you s-say that everything will be okay after… after what happened?" Faraday blinked again and his other hand traveled to his temple. "You don't know… You have no idea that Gregory-" He cut himself off.

Badd, seeing an opening, grabbed Byrne by the shoulders and squeezed.

"Because you _refuse_ to tell me what happened!" He was worried now that his initial fears were being proven true.

Finding out his friends got into trouble while he was away was bad Enough. Hearing that _Gregory_ was in the heart of it, when he's usually the one pulling them _away_ from trouble, just made the situation all the more bizarre and frightening.

"Tyrell… Gregory he-" Byrne choked up again.

"Where is he?" Badd was beginning to feel panic welling up in his stomach. "Since you don't seem to be able to speak properly, maybe he'll tell me what's going on."

This was, again, the wrong thing to say as Byrne just shook his head, tears pouring out of his closed eyes.

"Tyrell..." He swallowed. "Badd… Gregory can't talk to you right now..."

"What do you mean?" The panic grew inside his stomach. "Is… is he locked up?"

Byrne shook his head.

"No… but..." He swallowed. "He won't be... helping us with the Yatagarasu jobs a-any t-time soon." The Prosecutor let out a shaky breath. "In… in fact," He swallowed thickly. "He won't be helping us in c-court anymore…either."

Badd blinked.

Was he hearing things right?

Faraday can't possibly mean...

"Was he… disbarred?" He asked, gently, hoping he was wrong.

Edgeworth was a very good attorney that valued truth and honesty above a perfect record. Taking his badge was like riding the Justice system of someone who could inspire other attorneys to consider defending truly innocent people, and forgo the notion of being the best in the job.

That… it couldn't have… they wouldn't do that to him… _would_ they?

" _Jesus_ Tyrell, do I have to spell it out for you?!" Byrne blew up suddenly, unable to take it anymore. "Gregory Edgeworth can't talk to you _not_ because he's in jail or disbarred, he can't talk to you because he's _dead_!"

Everything froze and the air filled with static.

Badd wasn't sure his ears worked anymore.

"Gregory is… dead?" He echoed lamely, his brain slowing to a crawl.

It swarmed with questions that no one gave answers to.

Why was this happening? Who would be cruel enough to go through with that plan? Why would anyone-

His heart skipped a beat when a small boy with gray hair and sharp eyes pushed himself to the forefront of his mind.

"Miles..." He breathed, looking down at Byrne. "What happened to Miles?"

Faraday swallowed.

"It's… a messy situation, Tyrell." He said slowly. "Gregory was his only family so… he was-"

"Orphanage." Badd finished not letting him continue. "He's been placed in an orphanage."

The large detective then turned away from the Prosecutor and began marching towards the front door.

Gregory wouldn't want his son to be placed in such a hellhole of a place, after going through such a tragedy.

He'd want Miles to be in good hands, and Badd was _disgusted_ by the fact that he's not here in Faraday's house yet.

"W-Wait!" Byrne grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Where are you going?"

"Where do you _think_ I'm going?" Badd snapped, violently pulling his hand out of the Prosecutor's grip. "I'm getting our friend's child _out_ of that place."

"Tyrell he's not in the orphanage!" Faraday was not to be deterred. "He hasn't been there for two months now!"

"He got adopted?" Badd knew he shouldn't be surprised. Miles was an amazing kid with good study habits, a brilliant mind, and an air of responsibility and maturity that put children twice his age to shame. There is no shortage of parents that would _love_ to take him under their wings. But something just didn't feel _right_ about that.

If Miles was placed in a good home and now lives with people that love and care for him as if he was their own, then Byrne wouldn't _still_ be grieving Gregory's loss with the same intensity as he probably was three months ago.

Something wasn't _right_.

Faraday nodded, face solemn.

"By who?" When the Prosecutor didn't answer, Badd grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. " _Who_ , Faraday?!"

"Von Karma." Came the quiet response.

"He was adopted by Manfred Von Karma."

* * *

Tyrell Badd believed himself a strong willed man, one that would normally not break under pressure, but there are situations that excuse going back to a bad habit he promised to give up with the beginning of last year.

This was that type of incident. At least… that's what he told himself as he took a deep drag of the cigarette that seemingly replaced his ever-present lollipop.

He looked over to the primary school nearby, leaning casually against his car.

It wasn't the public one Gregory sent his son to. Instead it was a prestigious one, the type of school Edgeworth could only _dream_ of enrolling his boy in.

Badd's teeth tightened on the cigarette, nearly breaking in half.

 _Yet another thing Von Karma just **had** to best Edgeworth in._ He thought angrily. Then shook his head. _The man's already dead, Von Karma._ The Detective tapped away a bit of ash that gathered on the end. _The least you could do is let him rest in peace._

He glanced at his wrist watch.

It was 13:27.

In exactly three minutes Miles's school day ends and he'll exit the building.

Hopefully, Badd will be able to talk to him before Von Karma arrived to take him home.

Because Tyrell _needed_ to know if the boy was okay, if he wasn't being abused and mistreated by a man who harbors an unhealthy grudge against his late father.

He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he allowed the innocent child to suffer just because he was Edgeworth's blood.

A loud shrill echoed from the school indicating the end of the lesson, and Tyrell mentally prepared himself for what will happen next.

He watched in silence as numerous kids, snotty nosed with freshly ironed uniforms and heads held high enough to suggest enormous egos and arrogance, exit through the door and wondered if Miles was also turned into one such brat during his time here.

Tyrell _wished_ he could say the boy was above such petty behavior, as the Miles he came to know truly _was_ not prone to such notions, but he could no longer be sure of anything.

The boy just lost the only real family he had to a murderer, and was adopted by a man known for his enlarged sense of perfection which he enforced onto everything he surrounded himself with.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he wouldn't be surprised if the silver-haired child changed his personality to better fit his caretakers preferences, if _only_ to appease Von Karma and not get punished.

With a sigh the good Detective put out the flame on what was left of his cigarette, and promptly disposed it in the nearest trash bin.

When he returned to his car he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the students exiting the building had familiar looking dark gray bangs.

The boy's head was lowered, his tiny shoulders slumped, almost bowing under the pressure of the backpack he was wearing.

He looked… broken.

Crushed by sadness and grief that had no business plaguing the mind of such a young lad.

The sight made Badd's heart clench.

 _Why did everything have to go so wrong for this poor kid?_ He thought shaking his head. _When is enough, enough?_

"Miles!" He called out to the boy, waving his hand. "Miles! Over here!"

The kid stopped and looked up, eyes scanning for the person calling out to him.

When he finally spotted Badd he slowly made his way over to him.

It was during that walk that the Detective really noticed just how _thin_ Edgeworth's boy became while he was gone. It seemed like Manfred wasn't paying attention if his new charge even ate what he was given on his plate.

Miles stopped inches away from him, not meeting his eyes and instead looking down at his polished shoes.

Tyrell sighed.

"How are you doing, kid?"

Miles shrugged, still refusing to look at him.

"I'm doing okay, Uncle Badd." Came the quiet response.

 _Uncle Badd_. The Detective's heart soared at the name.

It took him _months_ to get the child to call him that instead of "Mr. Badd", as Edgeworth's son refused to call him that as they weren't related by blood, and not even Gregory's gentle insistence that his close friends _could_ in fact be called "uncles" could dissuade the boy from his decision, for a long long time.

"Are you sure, kid?" Tyrell asked gently, kneeling before him. "You don't look so good."

It was then that Miles began to shake under the pressure of unreleased sobs that he tried to bury deep inside him.

"I-I'm f-fine." The child tried again, but it sounded less like a confident statement, and more like something that preceded a nervous breakdown.

Tyrell let out a long sigh.

"Oh, kid." He then pulled Miles into a tight kid. "No matter what the old bastard says, it's alright to cry."

At first the boy was tense in his arms, unused to physical contact that didn't come from his father, but after a few seconds he returned the hug with surprising strength for a child who was malnourished.

"There, there." Badd rubbed circles on Miles's back, hoping the notion would comfort the distraught child. "You don't have to hold back with me, kid." He whispered. "Let it out. Let it _all_ out. You'll feel a lot better when you do."

That was all he really had to say, because the moment those words left his mouth the dam broke.

So Tyrell held the crying Miles pressed against his broad chest, until he cried out all the pent up hurt, grief and sadness.

Feeling his shirt soak up the salty tears, Tyrell seethed in anger.

This was a sign that the child had not been comforted nor brought to a specialist to talk about both his grief, _and_ the trauma he suffered in the elevator. Those feelings and emotions have been building up inside him in a manner that was ruining his emotional state.

Everything he saw spoke of _huge_ negligence on Manfred's part.

Whether it was only towards Miles because of his relation to Gregory, or executed towards _all_ the underage denizens of the Von Karma mansion, did not matter.

One thing, however, was clear.

He can't let Miles stay in that home.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lone Wolf and Cub"

Chapter 2

"Outside the lion's den."

It was the sound of a car pulling over nearby, that set off the first alarm bells in Badd's head regarding the possibility of Miles being abused in the Von Karma household.  
As upon hearing the tires crack on the road, Miles's eyes widened and he bolted away from him as if burned.  
The seasoned Detective watched in silent shock as the small child furiously tried to get rid of all the evidence of his crying. Wiping wildly at his eyes and mouth with his sleeves, to eliminate the tear stains and snot.  
He frowned as the engine that has been purring like a lazy tiger slowly quieted down, and he stood up to his full height.  
The car was a black limousine long enough to fit in more than seven people. Clearly it was bought to show of the Von Karma's material status to everyone who has eyes, and not to accompany the needs of a large family considering that, as far as Badd is concerned, the only people living in the house were Manfred, his younger daughter Franziska and, most recently, young Miles.  
Said boy was standing stiff as a board. Shoulders squared, both hands gripping the backpack handles so hard his knuckles were white, and silver haired head bowed submissively.  
The air around got quiet and eerie. Filled with so much tension you could cut it with a knife.  
A single "click" that could barely be heard and Tyrell could see the tiny boy _flinch_.  
His own hands curled into fists, itching to punch whoever it is that Miles was afraid of.  
To his surprise it wasn't Prosecutor Von Karma who stepped out of that car. It was, in fact, a younger looking man with black hair, a goatee and glasses wearing a standard butler suit.  
He stood to his full height, half a head smaller than Tyrell himself, and looked impassively at the poor child before him.  
"Young Master Miles." His voice was smooth and professionally detached. "Grandmaster Von Karma was not able to come get you today, but he did wish for me to inform you that he's deeply displeased with the grade you received for last week's mathematics test."  
"B-But it was a 'B+'!" Miles managed to protest weakly, looking up at the man with distress written all over his face. "I… I didn't have time to study a-as much I was s-supposed to with four other exams coming up the same w-week."  
Tyrell's eyes widened.  
' _ **Four**_ _exams?_ ' Badd thought in mild horror. _'All in_ _ **one**_ _week?!_ ' He shook his head slowly.  
' _That's… that's_ _ **crazy**_ _. How… how did the children even_ _ **sleep**_ _?!_ '  
"Regardless of the actual reason for your lackluster performance, Grandmaster Von Karma wished you to know that appropriate punishment will not miss you."  
Miles looked like he wanted to argue but, just as quickly as that rebellious spark appeared in those dark eyes, it disappeared. Leaving behind nothing but terrified submission.  
"Of course." He whispered to the ground. "I deserve nothing else for my mediocre grades. I am a disgrace to the Von Karma name."  
It sounded like a practiced mantra. Something he's been repeating over and over again, so much so that it sounded as if he actually _believed_ it.  
"Very good, Young Master Miles." The butler nodded before stepping to the back seat. "Come along then. We still have to pick up Young Miss Franziska from her day-care in time for dinner." He then opened the car door, and motioned for Miles to get in. "Say goodbye to your friend and let's go."  
The silver-haired boy swallowed thickly, his body shaking from how tense he was, and then turned to the Detective.  
"It was… nice seeing you again, Mr. Badd." He whispered out, and Tyrell felt his heart clench at the formality in the boy's voice.  
Gregory's eyes looked up at him, the dark gray orbs shining with exhaustion and resignation. Those eyes had no place on such a young face at the beginning of their journey on Earth. They should be sparkling with happiness and carefree joy, filled with wonder and curiosity not...  
Not _empty_.  
Miles looked up at him for only a few seconds but, when he looked away, it felt like an eternity.  
Badd watched as the silver-haired boy slowly made his way towards the car, his steps measured and slow.  
He was reluctant, fearful, and hesitant to go. It was obvious to everyone with functional eyes.  
So, just as he was about to step into the car...  
"I'm coming along." Tyrell spoke up before his brain had the chance to catch up with his mouth.  
The butler looked at him, a dark eyebrow raised.  
"Oh? And who might _you_ be, Sir?"  
"I'm the boy's uncle." They might not be related by blood, but Tyrell still considered Miles to be family.  
" _Uncle_?" The butler echoed questioningly. "Master Von Karma was not informed of any other relatives." He frowned. "We were under the impression that they were all _dead_."  
Tyrell could see Miles stiffen in the corner of his eye, and immediately decided that he does _not_ like this man.  
"He's the son of one of my _best_ friends." The Detective said through gritted teeth.  
"Ah. That does not make him your family, Mr..."  
"Badd. Tyrell Bad."  
The other man blinked and then his eyes widened in realization.  
"Ah, now I realize where I know you from. You're the Detective Grandmaster Von Karma works with during cases."  
"Yes." He nodded, eyes still sharp. "And, as a representative of the law enforcement, as well as the boy's godfather-"

"Godfather?"

"-I _demand_ to meet with his current guardian, as I am unhappy with the way he's been treated."

He saw Miles turning to him from the corner of his eye. Gray eyes wide and filled with fear, entire body shaking from the frantic beats of his heart.

The boy was scared, _no_ , _**terrified**_ of what will happen if the butler goes along with it and Badd actually meets up with Manfred Von Karma.

"I afraid I cannot comply with that reque-"

"If you won't take me along, I'll just drive behind you." Tyrell declared, eyes as hard as steel. "You won't get rid of me _that_ easily."

The butler raised his eyebrow at him.

"You do not know when to give up, do you, Mr. Badd?"

"No." The seasoned Detective agreed nodding his head. "Not when it's something this serious."

Miles was still silently asking, _no_ , **begging** him to quit, to stop before this ends up hurting the both of them, as the boy knew who regulated his salary payment.

What he was trying to force upon the butler, could have dire, long-term consequences that Tyrell might not be able to deal with at the given moment.

He might get his salary cut so much he wouldn't be able to afford his apartment anymore.

He might get relocated to another city, too far to watch over Gregory's boy in a form other than video calls and emails.

He might even get fired, if Von Karma gets angry enough.

But it didn't _matter_.

A _life_ was in _danger_ , one that was very dear to both him and the child's father, someone he respected _very_ much.

Every sacrifice is worth keeping Miles away from living under the roof of a man that hated his father to an, almost obsessive, degree.

So he steeled his resolve, straightened his back and glared back at the butler.

Said man looked back at him, disinterested and looking almost bored by this situation, as they stared each other down for a little while.

Before the butler smiled and nodded his head.

"Very well, Mr. Badd." He said, gently pushing Miles into the car, and then motioning towards the empty seat next to the boy.

"It will be your funeral."

* * *

"Why are you doing this?" Miles asked once they were both inside the car and out of the butler's earshot.

"Hm?" Tyrell, looked down at the kid in surprise. "Why do I do, what?"

"All… _this_." Miles gestured to the car. "W-We're not family, Y-You don't owe me a-any favors, a-and I d-doubt f-father made you p-promise to l-look after me if… if something h-happens." The poor child wasn't even looking at him anymore, preferring to look at the, strangely clean, car floor. "I just… don't _understand_ why you'd put your j-job at risk like t-this, Mr. Badd."

"Miles, kid, look at me okay?" When the boy refused to look up, he placed his finger under his chin and gently guided it upwards. "Firstly, it's _uncle_ Badd, remember? Secondly, I meant what I said. You're as much a family member to me, as Byrne Faraday is. Thirdly, even if Gregory didn't tell me to look after you, I'd still do it and…" He paused, looking the boy deep into the tearful gray orbs. "... Miles where are those thoughts _coming_ from?" The Detective asked, worry evident in his gruff tone.

"You were never… hell, your _dad_ wouldn't just… walk _away_ from from a situation like this. And you…" he swallowed. "You _want_ to be like your dad... don't you?"

Miles actually looked away.

"I…" His hands gripped the edge of his sweater like a lifeline. "I'm... training to be a... Prosecutor... now."

Badd's eyes widened, a silent gasp escaping his lips.

"...what?" He managed to choke out.

The silver-haired boy flinched, and moved closer to the closed door to his left.

"Master Von Karma he… he said that..." He sniffed. "That he won't have any 'p-pathetic' Defense Attorneys… under his roof."

For a moment Badd didn't know what to say. What even _could_ be said to something like that.

His hands curled in fists.

He knew Von Karma was a perfectionist who took wining and the possession of a perfect score, to an almost unhealthy degree.

He knew the penalty Gregory served him on his last case, was the reason Manfred hates Defense Attorneys so much.

But even _Tyrell_ didn't think he'd go so far as to insult a recently-orphaned boy's father right in his face, while also destroying said innocent child's dream.

Miles didn't do _anything_ to Manfred.

He never even _met_ the man before his father died.

But he's _Gregory's_ child.

And, since Edgeworth the elder is _dead_ , that fact alone was enough to make him _suffer_.

"Miles that's… God I don't know what to say."

"It's… okay, uncle Badd." The small boy rubbed his arm. "It… was to be expected." He shrugged, desperately trying to seem nonchalant. "Master Von Karma isn't very… fond of Defense Attorneys." His head lowered even more. "E-Especially… father."

' _So he_ _ **did**_ _insult Gregory in front of his grieving son._ ' Tyrell's, already _large_ dislike for the German Prosecutor, grew tenfold. **'** _ **Tasteful**_ _, Manfred,_ _ **very**_ _tasteful.'_ He thought with disdain. _'_ _ **Clearly**_ _, you are the_ _ **best**_ _guardian for this traumatized child._ '

"That doesn't mean you should just… give up your dream." The large detective placed his hand on the red-clad shoulder, inwardly wincing at how clearly he could feel the bone under the cloth.

"I just... thought it would be… for the best." The nine-year-old said quietly, scratching his arm. "He's my mas-guardian… from now on, and I… I should be t-thankful to h-him f-for even l-letting m-me stay. I-If he w-wants me to be a p-prosecutor, t-then… I s-should h-honor that w-wish." Miles whispers softly, and Tyrell got hit with a realization so hard, he nearly lost his breath.

"Miles…" he whispered breathlessly. "Miles I'm going to ask you a _very_ important question, and I _need_ you to look at me when you answer it."

The Detective saw the silver-haired boy bite his lower lip, hesitant to do as asked. But, with a gentle encouraging squeeze to the shoulder, he eventually looked up at the bigger man.

"Did… did you really think neither me nor Faraday would do anything about this?" He whispered, looking deep into Miles's eyes. "That we'd just… leave you with him?"

Gregory's child just blinked sadly at him.

"I didn't." He shook his head a bit. "But… e-eventually I… I just… stopped... hoping."

Tyrell had nothing to say to that, just pulled the child into a knowledge that he unknowingly failed Gregory's son, hurting more than any bullet taken in the line of duty.

* * *

The car stopped at a large, expensive facility exactly twenty minutes later, startling the detective into looking out the window.

The nameless butler got out of the car and walked up to the building in quick and measured steps, before disappearing behind the large mahogany doors.

Minutes later he walked out carrying a small, periwinkle-blue haired girl of about two years of age, who was obviously Von Karma's younger daughter.

Tyrell couldn't remember the name of the child, despite distinctly remembering Manfred bragging about her not too long ago, but, if there was one thing he _could_ say about her, it's that she looked almost exactly like Von Karma's wife, Verona.

The front passenger seat opened and the butler's irritated voice could be heard.

"Young Miss Franziska, _please_ stop hitting me with your rattle. It is unbecoming of a lady of your stature to act so… violently."

The Detective raised his eyebrow at the poor dark-haired man as he struggled to fasten the toddler to her baby seat, while the girl whacked his head with her little light-blue, butterfly-shaped toy.

A small giggle could be heard to his right.

"Franziska is a-always a bit of a h-handful." Miles explained when Badd looked at him questioningly. "She never lets just a-anyone fasten her s-seatbelts. It's usually… Lady Verona o-or Grandmaster Von Karma." The boy chuckled a bit more. "Jerome c-can't seem to be able to get on her good side, d-despite interacting w-with her more than a-anyone."

"Ah…" Tyrell nodded, turning his head back to the front of the vehicle at the sound of one door closing and another opening. "That explains the tantrum."

The rest of the drive went on without further adventures, and sooner than he expected, Detective Tyrell Badd found himself in front of the Von Karma mansion.

Right outside the lion's den.


	3. Chapter 3

"Lone Wolf and Cub"

Chapter 2

"The wolf against the lion."

The estate was… bigger than he expected.

Much grander too, if he was to be honest.

Marble wall sparking clean, windows long and tall as if taken straight out of a baroque church, lawn neatly cut about two centimeters from the ground and even the sidewalk leading to the damn place was nice and expensive.

Tyrell blistered.

He wouldn't be able to afford even a single marble _brick_ that this entire estate was made of, if he lived off of Instant noodles and coffee his entire _life_.

It was clear Von Karma had money to spare and wasn't above showing off _just_ how much.

Vain _Bastard_.

"Quite grand, isn't it?" The Butler, Jerome, asked stepping to his side and Tyrell noticed that he didn't have the toddler in his arms. "The Von Karma mansion is Grandmaster Von Karma's pride and joy. Second only to his beloved daughters, of course."

The detective nodded, taking it all in.

"Come along now, Young Master Miles." Jerome threw over his shoulder. "I believe Lady Verona is anxious to feed her youngest her dinner."

"Yes, sir." Came the automatic response, and Tyrell discovered that the small boy was now holding the two-year old, a lot calmer than when she was held by the Butler, in his hands. "I'll get Franziska right to her." The boy bowed to both of them before hurrying up to the upper level.

"Very good." Jerome approved stiffly before turning to Tyrell. "I will inform the Grandmaster of your coming. In the meantime you may await your summoning in the main room." He said opening the giant sapphire doors. "I'll have the staff prepare a few refreshments and Young Master Miles will have them delivered shortly." With that said he bowed and was off to do his duties.

Tyrel, enjoying the momentary solitude, decided to explore what the Von Karma Mansion looked like from behind high walls.

The living room in which he was directed to sit and wait, was bigger than his whole apartment and filled with a lot more furniture.

With light blue walls, white fluffy carpets and cream colored bookshelves and armchairs, the room looked cold and uninviting. Tyrell could practically feel Manfred's intense aloofness and scorn for anyone he decides is below him, _oozing_ from every corner.

There was also a nice large, almost as tall as Badd himself, fireplace in the far end of the room. It was made out of an expensive gray colored rock though not one that the Detective could identify, with Crystal glass separating the flames from the outside world and a nice set of black pokers resting on it's left side.

There was no fire in it, yet it still was the warmest piece of this room.

On the opposite side there was a large portrait hanging on the wall, presenting the entire family.

Tyrell walked over to it, to get a better look.

The biggest person on the painting was Manfred Von Karma himself, dressed in his typical dark blue suit and white cravat. As per usual, the prosecutor was frowning, glaring daggers at whoever dares to look upon him. High and mighty even as a painting.

Next to him was a skinny woman with short silver-blue hair, dulled in color with age, tied in a bun, sharp ice-blue eyes and dressed in a black mini skirt, white shirt and a black vest. She was a bit shorter than Manfred but no less intimidating, her stature practically radiating confidence and determination.

 _'That must be Verona_.' He thought, looking into those bright orbs.

She's just as beautiful as she must be deadly.

Onto her left stood a silver-haired girl, just exiting her teenage years and entering into early twenties, with a dark shirt that nearly covered up her upper body and a blue bow. Unlike her parents she was smiling brightly, pearly teeth peeking from between lips and gold eyes crinkling in mirth.

A sight so simple and yet so refreshing at the same time.

' _I heard about this one._ ' The detective couldn't help but smile back at the girl. It's so rare that he got to do that nowadays. ' _Can't remember the name though…_ '

"It's a pretty piece, isn't it?" A voice asked just as he was looking at Franziska and the glare she tried to intimidate the painter with, despite the pacifier in her mouth. "Papa commissioned it a week ago, it's been glaring at the room for three days now."

"Whoever painted it must have had remarkable talent." Tyrell admitted, eyes still scanning the family portrait. "It nearly fooled me into thinking it's a photograph."

The voice laughed suddenly sounding a lot closer than before, short and melodic. "The boy had talent, yes. Though, then again, Papa wouldn't go for anything less." He turned around and saw the same young lady from the portrait standing right next to him. "Vera Von Karma."

She held out her small hand, covered in a nice cute white glove, to him and he was actually scared it would break if he put too much force into it.

"Tyrell Badd."

"Ah." She breathed, leaning casually against the wall next to him. "You must be the 'unexpected visitor' that Jerome kept growling about."

"Not a big fan… I take it." The detective took the opportunity to slip in a raspberry lollipop into his mouth.

"No, of course not." Vera shook her head and rolled her eyes. "He despises surprises actually."

He snorted.

"Sounds like you're talking… from personal experience."

"And what if I am?" She grinned at him, eyes shining in mischief.

Tyrell shrugged.

"It must be… quite the interesting tale."

"It is." Vera agreed slowly, her right hand toying with a loose lock of hair. "But you're not here to listen to me tell the mischievous tales of my childhood adventures." She then looked him in the eye and he could see where the resemblance between her and her father lay. "You're here to talk about my little brother."

Tyrell stayed silent, because talking wasn't exactly what he planned on doing until he saw Manfred.

"You could… say that." He answered after a while.

She kept looking at him then, long and hard, as if searching for something.

"Papa mentioned you a couple of times." Vera spoke, voice hard as steel and yet smooth as silk. "He never said anything about you and Gregory Edgeworth seeming particularly close."

 _'Ah, so she's scouting for information._ ' The detective rolled the Loli in his mouth with a thoughtful hum. _'Trying to verify if what she heard from the Butler is true or not._ '

"He was... one of my best friends." He explained. "We just… never had a lot of… cases together." Which was true. It was unfair how little he, Gregory and Byrne actually got to work as a unified force on a case.

"Mmm…" The woman hummed, rubbing her chin. "So that's what it was? An out of job friendship?"

"You could… say that."

"I see." Vera nodded. "And I suppose you know Miles on a personal level too."

"Calls me… uncle." Tyrell stated with no small amount of pride. "Bit of a… stick in the mud… but, after a while… I found it endearing." Again, it was true. At first he couldn't shake the thought that someone who's supposed to be running around and playing with toy cars, could have a bigger vocabulary filled with law jargon than _he_ does. Especially after he foolishly agreed to play "Scrabble" with the kid.

It didn't help that the brat sometimes invited himself to their Yatagarasu meetings, and, more often than not, criticized the way in which the thievery of the information was to be carried out.

He thought Miles was trying to show off like the many spoiled brats that Tyrell had the misfortune of meeting.

But, after seeing that all he wanted to do was impress his dad, made his grizzly heart soften a bit.

And his criticisms forced them to look at the problem from a more simplistic perspective, which in turn allowed them to see flaws they couldn't before.

She chuckled at that, a gloved hand covering her thin lips.

"Yes, he does seem a bit too serious for a boy his age." She agreed, eyes shining with fondness. "A head far too wise on a body far too young."

He nodded agreeing with that assessment, and for a moment they stood in comfortable silence…

Before the eldest Von Karma daughter spoke up again.

"Father… has never been the easiest man to live with." Her hand toyed with a lock of hair and she refused to look him in the eye. "There are no exceptions to that rule, even mother sometimes can be heard sighing in exasperation." Vera looked up then, eyes digging into his like golden shovels into dark dirt. "Yet, with a bit more practice, I believe kleine bruder can manage to survive just fine."

And this… is where Tyrell expected to enter a vocal war zone.

"He needs… to be with family." He gritted out.

"Family which is no longer among the living?" The woman raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Or were you, perhaps, referring to yourself and your Prosecutor friend?"

Tyrell bit into his lollipop.

"Miles's mental state is... fragile. He has been… badly traumatized and yet… no help has been given to lessen that pain." He countered and was relieved to see Vera actually flinch.

"Vater... believes he can use this as a growing experience, to be rid of that weakness by-"

"Beating him?" He interrupts her.

She flinches again harder this time, though she recovers quickly, golden eyes shining with anger.

"How _dare_ you insinuate-"

"I've seen his reaction to the mere _mention_ of the man's name." The detective crushed the candy in his mouth and swiftly pocketed the stick. "He was _terrified_ , scared out of his brilliant little mind just _thinking_ about what the man will do to him once he comes home."

Vera gasped, her gloved hand going up to her thin lips.

"He must have gotten a "B" again…" she muttered under her breath, looking more than a little bit distressed. But then she shook her head. "Though vater's methods might be a bit... drastic." Tyrell snorted at the understatement, otherwise keeping his thoughts to himself. "I really _do_ believe he can benefit from this!" She insisted, reaching for Tyrell's sleeve. "Miles is _strong_ , thought his size may not support that, and this will only _amplify_ that inner strength, help him grow into the remarkable young man who fears _nothing_ and no _one,_ that we _both_ want him to become."

The detective looked into her eyes, really _looked_ into those golden orbs shining with conviction that her words are ringing true.

"Tell me..." he started, gently prying his arm out of her grasping hand. "Would those... benefits, occur before or _after_ he ceases to be Gregory Edgeworth's little boy who wanted nothing more than to follow in his father's footsteps, and gets brutally molded into the male heir your mother just _couldn't_ seem to be able to give?"

He then narrowed his eyes, sharpening them to silver spears.

"And tell me… that _remarkable_ young man you spoke of… will he be able to look _himself_ in the eye every time he gazes into a mirror knowing that, in order to be who he is, he had to throw away _everything_ his father ever stood for?" He turned his back to her but couldn't help but look over his shoulder one last time.

"Will _you_?"

* * *

Because there was still no sign of Miles with snacks or Jerome with his summoning, Tyrell opted to sit and wait in the hallway, since the living room was occupied with the eldest Von Karma daughter.

Sitting down on the small stool the family probably uses when they put on their expensive shoes, the seasoned Detective sighed and ran a hand through his face.

His decision to come confront Von Karma was probably one of the most impulsive ones he has ever made, but that didn't mean he came unprepared.

On the contrary, their magnificent Yatageterasu Trio managed to gather a few juicy tidbits on our 'God among Prosecutors' before Tyrell had to leave for his mission in Belgium.

If he plays his cards right, he might just leave this fortress of a home without losing his job.

' _Of course_ ' he shifted in the, admittedly comfortable (if a bit small for him) seat. _'if all that fails I can just grab the kid and try to make a run for it._ '

Though not the preferred option, as his legs ached at the mere _thought_ of so much physical exercise courtesy of the long chase in Belgium, it was comforting knowing he always had this 'Plan B' in case everything else goes belly-up.

"E-Excuse me?" A timid voice to his right pulled him out of his thoughts, and made him look to the side.

There stood the source of all his mental gymnastics, Miles Edgeworth, as well as a tray full of pastries that he and other normal folk were not privy to, like: Turkish Delight, Noka Chocolate, The Brownie Extraordinaire and The Sultan's Golden Cake and those were just the ones he _recognized_.

"Here are a few things you can chew on while waiting for Master Von Karma to call you." The boy then gently placed the tray on the small coffee table, trying his hardest to not spill anything. "I can get you something to drink if you'd like. I-I can only make you a glass of milk, as Mistress Verona doesn't think I'm old enough to handle boiling water yet and there are no juices in the house." That last, though filled with shame, also had a bit of sadness added near the end, and Tyrell knew why. Miles loved grape juice. "B-But I can ask Corrine if she'd make you tea or coffee if that's what you'd like."

It was almost scary how much the kid tries to please, which only added more credibility to the theory that the poor tyke is abused whenever failure is on the horizon.

"No, no… I'll be fine with just milk, thank you." It was no use making the child fret over whether or not the tea/coffee is too his liking.

"Are you s-sure?" Miles asked, his left hand pulling at the right sleeve of his school uniform, as sure sign of anxiety and general distress. "It really wouldn't be a problem…"

"Coffee and tea don't go well with lollipops." Was the best thing Badd could think of to excuse his disregard for the other beverages, and he could see that the kid didn't quite believe him.

"And milk… does?" Miles's eyebrow rose in disbelief and, for a brief moment, he was back to his old self again. The self that was both proud _and_ cheeky enough to poke holes in statements made by much older people, and _not_ cower at the thought of being reprimanded.

"Heh…" the detective allowed himself to chuckle. "You got me there."

"..." And, just as quickly as it came, that confidence evaporated away as if it was never there to begin with. "I'll… go get you that milk, sir." Miles murmured before bowing and making his way down the long hallway, leaving Tyrell alone once more.

But, before he could get comfortable in this solitude…

"Grandmaster Von Karma is ready to see you now."

* * *

' _This is it_.' The large Detective thought to himself as Jerome lead him through the many hallways towards Manfred's office.

Soon he will come face to face with one of the most despised people he had the misfortune to meet. ' _Soon the real battle will begin._ '

He only hoped he had enough ammunition to see this through to the end.

' _I hope you know what you're doing here, Tyrell._ '

That last thought reminded him a bit of his late defense attorney friend. Sounding _just_ concerned enough to make _him_ wonder if this really _is_ the wisest course of action.

Gregory always _was_ the most level headed one of the trio…

'Rest easy, Edgeworth.' Badd thought back steeling his resolve, his hand fingering the pendrive stored in his jeans. ' _I'll make sure your boy ends up in good care._ '

Whether it was with him, Byrne or someone else completely, didn't _matter_.

The boy needs to be out of Von Karma's clutches, _that's_ what he's here to accomplish.

"Grandmaster Von Karma." Before Tyrell knew it, they were there. Right outside the office. "Your guest has arrived."

"Bring him in, Jerome." And with that…

It began.

* * *

The first thing Manfred did when Tyrell entered the room, was pour himself a generous amount of scotch into a crystal glass.

"Prosecutor Von Karma." The detective said in greeting.

"...Tyrell Badd." They said that words are more effective than any actual weapon, and there was no one better at it than Manfred Von Karma. Even now, outside the courtroom, he is asserting his dominance over the detective by neglecting to address him by his job title. Effectively degrading him. "Why exactly are you here?"

"You _surprise_ me, Von Karma. I _thought_ you already _knew_." Tyrell took pride in the way Manfred blistered at the remark.

The detective knew this was nothing but a ploy to take control over the conversation and ensure his victory, and was having _none_ of it.

The tightening grip around the glass was the only visible sign of irritation Manfred displayed.

"Talk then." The elder man hissed out, sharp eyes narrowed and icy cold.

"The boy…" Tyrell moved the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other. "He's coming with me."

Clarifications were unnecessary.

They both knew what he meant.

And then Von Karma started _laughing_.

The sound was so jarring it nearly made the detective _flinch_.

"So…" he said, swirling the scotch in his hand, after calming down. " _This_ is why you're here?" Manfred kept chuckling. "Because of the pathetic… little… _whelp_?"

The lollipop cracked under the pressure of his teeth.

"Don't talk about him like that."

"It's what he _is_ , Detective." The Prosecutor smirked that shark like smirk. "Like father… like son."

"If you hate him so much… why not let him go? Why take him in… at all?"

"Because, unlike his _worthless_ father, _he_ has the potential to become something… _greater_." Manfred took a sip of scotch. " _With_ the proper guidance, of course."

Badd could already imagine what kind of "something" Von Karma planned on moulding little Miles into, and shuddered.

"The boy has... Gregory's blood." He tried speaking Manfred's language even if every _inch_ of his body was repulsed by the mere _thought_ of doing it. "Why waste your time training... someone that will never be a… true Von Karma… when you have two... perfectly capable... daughters to pass your... legacy to?"

The Prosecutor smiled.

Just… smiled.

Tyrell saw _hate_ in that smile, hate and raw unleashed _fury_ that needed an outlet least it destroys the body from the inside... and immediately knew _why_ Manfred did what he did.

"Revenge." He whispered. " _That's_ what you _really_ want."

The smile never left the Prosecutor's face.

"You know me all too well, Detective."

"He's already _dead_ , Von Karma."

"And yet my desire burns ever stronger." Von Karma countered without missing a beat. "So long as the score isn't even, I will not stop in my pursuit of Justice."

"It was a _penalty_!" Tyrell couldn't stress that enough.

This whole thing, this whole nightmare that threatened to ruin a young _innocent_ boy's life began over something so minor, so _insignificant_ , as a _penalty_.

"A _blemish_ on an otherwise _perfect_ record!"

"He didn't even _win_ the case!"

 _ **Gods,**_ _Gregory didn't even_ _ **win**_ _._

"Edgeworth should have _known_ better than to even _try_!" Manfred guaffed. "He was defending a _guilty_ man and look where it got him!"

Mr. Master was _innocent_ and, had the system not been a corrupted mess, Gregory would have _won_.

They _both_ knew it.

But what did that knowledge matter _now_?

Edgeworth is dead, Von Karma cleared his record, and Mr. Master is behind bars.

So many lives have been ruined by that accursed case…

"Are you saying I should have let his boy follow down the _same_ path, Detective?" The Prosecutor's voice pulled him out of thought. "To end up dead in a _ditch_ somewhere because he defended the _wrong_ person?"

"Don't _pretend_ that you're doing all this for his own _good_ , Von Karma." Tyrell hissed. "Denial doesn't suit you."

"Oh but I _am_ , Detective." Manfred took a healthy swing of his scotch. "I am moulding him into a _weapon_ against crime. To make sure that people like the man that killed his father will _never_ walk free again."

"Is that what you tell him?" The Detective was shaking with barely contained rage. "Is that what you tell him every time you _beat_ him for getting a _bad grade_?"

"The boy needs _discipline_. To know that low effort is _not_ to be tolerated." Manfred sneered into his glass. "Gregory was too soft on him."

"Discipline shouldn't involve _beatings_."

"Why? I personally believe it should be _encouraged_ as pain is the _best_ teacher."

...

This is pointless.

They could talk for hours and it wouldn't get them anywhere.

Unless he cuts to the chase.

"I'm taking the boy"

"No, you're most certainly are _not_." Manfred, as usual, didn't miss a beat.

Tyrell took a deep breath.

Time to play his ace card.

"It would be in your best interest if you didn't resist."

Von Karma actually raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you... _threatening_ me, Detective?"

"Heavens, no." _'At least… not yet._ ' "This is but a polite suggestion, nothing more." He reached into his pocket again, to assure himself that his pendrive is still there. "I certainly cannot _stop_ you from objecting, just as _you_ cannot stop _me_ from, ah, giving the media some... _interesting_ information."

 _That_ caught Manfred's attention.

" _What_ information?"

Tyrell smiled bearing teeth.

"Tell me, Von Karma, what's more important to you? Your perfect record… or your ridiculous revenge on a dead man?"

The Prosecutor watched him long and hard then, steel eyes searching for any sign that he's bluffing.

He wasn't, so there were none.

"You're _bluffing_." Manfred said anyway. "You have _no_ such information."

"Are you really ready to take that risk, Von Karma?" He pulls out the pendrive. "Because I have it all right _here_."

Tyrell never thought he'd see the day when the _great_ Von Karma paled at the sight of a simple pendrive.

It was clear he recognized it.

"Where did you ger _that_?" The nervousness he felt was creeping into his voice, his facade cracking under the loss of control he was faced with.

Tyrell's eyes crinkled.

"A little _birdie_ gave it to me."A

* * *

AN: come yell at me on Tumblr if you like.


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